


Mess is Mine

by dreamingoutloud



Series: Flawed-The Enjolras/Grantaire Song Fic Collection [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Loyalty, M/M, Mess is Mine, Songfic, Suffering, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingoutloud/pseuds/dreamingoutloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he gets involved with Enjolras, Grantaire makes a promise to give up the alcohol that's been running his life for the last several years.  He's not prepared for the violent way it affects his body.  Despite his fears, the man he loves stays willingly by his side, helping him fight the worst of it.  Because his problems no longer belong to just him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mess is Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliebeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebeth/gifts).



> Number 3 in the songfic series. This one is based on Mess is Mine by Vance Joy, which was a surprising but delightful find that had to go on their playlist.
> 
> "Hold on, darling  
> This body is yours,  
> This body is yours and mine  
> Well hold on, my darling  
> This mess was yours,  
> Now your mess is mine"

“Just a sip,” Enjolras begged. “Please?” 

Grantaire shook his head furiously. Even the smell of the weak broth his boyfriend was offering him made his stomach lurch all over again. He breathed several times through his nose to try and get it to settle. As little as he’d eaten, there’d be nothing but dry heaves and those were the most painful thing he could imagine right then. While he knew Enjolras was just trying to help, he couldn’t make himself feel too guilty. If it weren’t for Enjolras, he wouldn’t be in this mess. If it weren’t for his boyfriend, he could be downing a brandy and feeling perfectly content with his decisions.

But no. They’d fought about it back and forth. While Grantaire had insisted Enjolras should still love him as he was, the arguments he made weren’t entirely wrong. The drinking had begun long before they’d gotten together. He’d tried to cut down, and it was his ability to do so that had let him win Enjolras’ heart. But cutting it out of his life all together hadn’t been nearly as easy. A few times he’d attempted it, and had always wound up back where he’d started. 

Admittedly, the problem had been that he’d been trying to do it in secret. He’d wanted to surprise Enjolras, and their friends, too. It wasn’t possible, though. Withdrawals had always done him in and he’d always crept back to the bar, or to the liquor store, or to whichever friend would hook him up with his latest fix. 

In his late teens, he’d merely snuck a few drinks here and there. But then his parents had died, his sister was a pain to live with, and he’d realized that those few drinks had numbed his mind. And so it began. A few drunken nights to make things easier. A consistent flow of them to make life more livable. He began to change. The quiet and passionate painter dulled, replaced by a loud and boisterous man who might sketch a few things here and there, but couldn’t quite replicate the gentle strokes that had made his name. University didn’t matter as much to him anymore. Which was good, since finishing his final art project wasn’t going to happen. Only a few credits short of graduating, he dropped out. Most of his old friends had turned away, and even his new friends, his ‘drinking buddies’, were growing concerned. Nothing of importance mattered to him anymore. Only when his next drink was. 

And then Enjolras happened.

Oh, they’d been friends for years. And, despite the fact that Enjolras clearly didn’t approve of the way he’d been changing, he did at least stick around. Or maybe it was more that he couldn’t quite shake Grantaire. The man was practically a god around campus, revered by so many. Grantaire was no exception. When he led his political rallies, Grantaire was always there, watching, paying attention. Desperate to be noticed, he’d throw in some comment or another, usually a contradictory one. Occasionally a mocking one. He knew it made the younger man angry, but he didn’t care. At least his eyes were on him. At least he was paying attention to him. And, really, his points were honest ones. True, even though they were likely unwelcomed. 

He’d known exactly what Grantaire was like the first time he’d pushed him into a wall and kissed him. He’d known that alcohol was a large part of his life the day he somewhat awkwardly asked him to a movie. But that didn’t stop him from mentioning it over dinner one night. From pointing out that he wasn’t the man he used to be. That, Grantaire could have lived with. He found it more annoying than anything else. It almost made him want to walk away. To forget the fact that he’d longed for the blonde for years and just leave. But then he added his other fear, his worry about losing Grantaire. The way he was destroying his body. How he was going to die young and Enjolras would be left without him.

And really, how could Grantaire not answer that plea? 

At that moment, he regretted it. As he lay there in the bed, curled in his boyfriend’s arms as Enjolras desperately tried to get some food into him. His whole body was damp with sweat and yet he shook from the chills that racked his body. If he’d had the strength to get up for more than a few minutes at a time, he’d have gone and found a drink. Just a little, just something to ease the pain. For once, it wasn’t mental pain he wanted relief from. His whole body hurt, his stomach felt like it was twisting and rolling and his head was likely to come apart from his body at any moment.

In some ways, he wanted to push Enjolras away. To make him leave. This was his fault. If he hadn’t been so damned hopeful and optimistic about their life together once the drug was free from Grantaire’s system, then he might still be fine. Oh, he’d still be his obnoxious and annoying self, but he’d be feeling a thousand times better. But the other part of him, the part that logically knew it would get better once the worst of this had passed, didn’t want the man to let him go. He was just so grateful he was even there. He had every right to leave. No one should have to watch this. Grantaire knew it couldn’t be easy.

But Enjolras merely dipped the cloth in his hand into the bowl of water by the bed and gently wiped at his boyfriend’s face. “You need to try, love,” he murmured softly. He’d discovered quickly that loud noises weren’t Grantaire’s friends. Ironic, considering. “It’ll only be worse if you’ve got nothing to bring back up.” They were only on day three. If this kept up this violently, Grantaire was pretty sure the withdrawal would kill him long before the alcohol could have.

Despite every part of his body begging him not to, Grantaire nodded and lifted his head weakly. Enjolras moved behind him to support his body and lifted the cup to his lips. God, he felt pathetic, like a child who couldn’t even take care of himself. He managed a few sips before his stomach clenched in protest. He clamped his lips shut and pulled away, shaking his head as much as he dared with the migraine that seemed to have taken up permanent residence.

To his credit, Enjolras didn’t fight him. He merely set the cup to the side and offered him a straw. The ice water felt cool on his ravaged throat and he took several sips before he knew he’d lose that, too. The only thing making any of this worth it was Enjolras’ hand in his hair. His motions were soothing and calming and took him back to simpler times, when his mother would care for him when he was home from school sick.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he protested, though the words sounded ridiculous even to his ears. Without Enjolras, Grantaire wouldn’t be able to manage this. He either would have picked up a drink all over again two hours after his last one, or he would have died from being unable to take care of himself. That didn’t mean he wanted this for his boyfriend. The man had a life One of them still had school to attend, friends to see. Though Grantaire did know that Joly would come visit if he asked. But he was too proud to ask. It was bad enough Enjolras had to see him this way. He didn’t want anyone else to have to.

In response to his comment, Enjolras smiled. It was a tiny smile, an exhausted one. Grantaire wasn’t sleeping well and, in turn, neither was Enjolras. He mostly stayed up with him, studying or writing notes, or whatever saving the world sort of thing he needed to do. But there was definitely a smile on that beautiful face. “As if there’s anywhere else I’d be. You need me.”

Grantaire scoffed, though with his current posture and his weakened body, it sounded more like a huff. “I do not,” he tried to argue, though they both knew there was no point in it. “I could manage.” 

Lowering him gently back to the bed, Enjolras shook his head. To Grantaire’s surprise, he lay beside him, pulling him close. For the first time in days, the chills eased slightly. He had the feeling that it wouldn’t be long before he was much too warm, but for the moment, he relished the contact. He nestled in closer, tucking his head beneath Enjolras’ chin. There was something comforting about that man, even though the rest of the world knew him to be cold and often angry. Grantaire knew better. His boyfriend was angry at the injustice of the world, at the treatment people were willing and able to give to others. Enjolras’ temper was to him what alcohol was to Grantaire. A way of dealing with the world. Maybe they were both giving that up. Together. Besides, with Grantaire, Enjolras’ fury was rarely an issue. Irritation at times, sure. But the man known for making a debate opponent cry wasn’t the man lying in Grantaire’s bed, holding him close to his body to try and help ease his pain.

There was silence for a few moments before Enjolras finally spoke again. Grantaire’s eyes had started to feel heavy. Maybe he could get a couple of hours of sleep before the next round of heaving started and his soup made a return visit. “I wouldn’t let you do this alone,” he finally murmured, his words whispered somewhere into Grantaire’s neck.

***

He was pretty sure it was light outside. It was hard to tell as his eyes flickered open. For the first time since...god, what day was it now? For the first time in at least several days, he didn’t feel a fight going on in his body. His stomach was weak, but it didn’t threaten to remove itself from his body at any given moment. He vaguely recalled moments from the last few days. The pained screams. The hallucinations and paranoia. Determination that something, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what, was going to get to him. There’d been a needle in his arm, he remembered that. Clawing, fighting at anyone who came near him.

Through it all he remembered Enjolras’ face. His wide blue eyes watching him. That voice being his one grounding point, holding on to him despite everything. Staying by his side, reading to him or singing softly. Anything to remind him he was there.

It was then that he rolled over, realizing that the love of his life was still at his side. Enjolras looked almost angelic in sleep. Awake, he was all fire and passion, anger with the world and a love for life that couldn’t be denied. But asleep, a peace washed over his face that was never found in his waking hours. His long eyelashes rested against the tops of his sharply angled cheeks and his fist balled under his chin. 

Grantaire was fairly certain he had to smell and he could barely move without his body aching. But he scooted just a bit closer to the man he’d fallen in love with so long ago, long before Enjolras had even considered him an option. He nestled in, figuring if Enjolras had chosen to fall asleep with him that he was used to the smell by now.

Those beautiful eyes fluttered open, and a slow smile crossed his boyfriend’s face. “You’re awake,” he murmured, reaching out to brush some of Grantaire’s limp curls off of his forehead.

“So are you,” he replied. The sound of his own voice surprised him. It actually creaked with the effort and lack of use and constant vomiting. It would likely be a while before he sounded like himself again. And he knew it would be a very long time before he felt like himself again. 

Leaning in, Enjolras placed a kiss against his forehead. The brief touch of his lips felt warm, but not too warm the way everything else had over the last... “What day is it?” he finally made himself ask. 

Though he paused, as if he didn’t want to say, Enjolras finally did answer. “Tuesday. It’s been almost two weeks.” 

Grantaire groaned. He’d wasted so much of his life already, buried in the alcohol the way he’d been. Now it had cost him almost two more weeks of his life. “What a waste,” he muttered, rolling on to his back and glaring up at the ceiling.

“The worst part’s over now,” Enjolras said gently, sitting up and getting to his feet. “Now we work on getting you your life back. And we will, Taire. I promise.”

But was it? Would the worst ever truly be over? Could he even begin to tell his friend, his love, that if he could, he’d go get a drink right then and there? After everything they’d just gone through. “Yeah,” he muttered, instead of voicing his fears. Because how could he tell Enjolras that? He’d never understand. And if he could fight it, maybe he’d never need to. Enjolras moved around the room, settling things into place, and Grantaire let him. It was easier than speaking just then. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly, almost not heard from where Enjolras stood across the room. But the blonde did hear him, and he turned to look over his shoulder. Slowly, he turned to face him, arms crossed over his chest. “For being here. For staying. I don’t remember all of it. A lot of it is...fragments. It’s...fuzzy.” Much like the world had been through his wine-induced haze. “But I know it couldn’t have been pleasant.” He tried to sit up and Enjolras rushed over without even being asked, easing the pillows behind him so he could manage an almost sitting position. After barely using his muscles for so long, he supposed it would have to do. “The one thing I do remember clearly is you.”

A shy smile crossed Enjolras’ face. It was a rare expression for him, one that surprised Grantaire. And he grinned. Because there was something almost boyish about the man in front of him as he settled into the spot at his side, reaching for his hand. “You did this for me,” he reminded him. “As much as I wished you cared enough about your own life to do it for you, we both know that isn’t true. You did it for me, and there’s no way I’d let you face this alone.”

That much was true. Grantaire was too exhausted to feel ashamed about it, so he merely buried his head further into the nest of pillows that Enjolras had made for him. “Still,” he said softly. “This shouldn’t be your problem to deal with. You shouldn’t have to put up with me. With all of this.”

Despite the fact that there was nothing romantic about the way Grantaire felt at that moment, Enjolras leaned down, kissing him softly. Though his body ached and his head hurt an impossible amout, he still managed to respond slightly. “Don’t you get it? It’s part of being in love with you. These aren’t just your problems anymore. They’re ours. We’re together. Your past is your problem, but your future... That’s mine, Taire. Whatever we face, now, we face it together.” 

His eyes flickered shut for a moment, and he wondered if his traitorous body was going to fall asleep on him. “Yeah?” he said softly, a slow smile crossing his face. “You’re in love with me?”

Enjolras laughed quietly. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

A weak laugh escaped and Grantaire offered a small smile. “Something like that. I love you, too.”

He felt himself drifting back to sleep, but not before Enjolras’ warm hand traced his cheek gently. “I know, my angel. I know.”


End file.
